Universal Constants RP

[Artemis]

I think its time to try this again, what do you guys think?

[Heretic]

What exactly is this Universal Constants RP? What do we do?

[Shroom Man 777]

I'm game, mang. Same crew same ship? Or something else?

[Artemis]

@Heretic: On the old Omniverse Zero forum, I ran a short-lived but quite fun RPG set in my Universal Constants universe. Take a look if you like!

@Shroomz: That's totally up to you guys, I say. I've still got the basic plot for the old game in my head, but we can always start anew.

[Mobius 1]

Oh god, I need to dig out the old character, if I can find it...

[Siege]

This is an excellent idea.

Dwight Johnson's character arc has pretty much run its course though; I imagine he's still running around doing questionable deeds with Mona and the gang somewhere, but if we're to do this I'd like to try something else for a change...

[Artemis]

Right now I've got two scenarios hanging around my head, one a spy-fi story starring Agents of Ivory Teardrop, the other with them as treasure hunter race: think Raiders of the Lost Ark starring Han Solo instead of Indiana Jones. Either of those trip anyone's trigger?

[Magister Militum]

For those who arrived late to the OZ party to not know the intricacies of the RP, what exactly does it entail?

[Artemis]

I like to run them so that they work kinda like a round-robin writing session, with each player writing from the perspective of a character they've made. I'll be providing the backstory, antagonists, and the general flow of the plot, but its up to the players to get themselves to the end.

To start, the players write up a quick character bio. I'd like something in the neighborhood of 2-3 pages worth, but that's neither a minimum or maximum - as long as you give me more than "he likes guns, country music, and alien poontang," you're good However, the more story hooks you give me, the more your character will be part of the story, so keep them tortured pasts and uncertain futures coming, people!

[Siege]

I says treasure hunt. Preferably treasure buried by the mysterious alien space bat guys.

[Artemis]

You're reading my mind, sir

[Shroom Man 777]

I had the strangest dream. About this RP.

We were in a prison and were breaking out. So we were donning space powered armor and sneaking and avoiding guards. And there were Klashnoi or something. We, as in you, Siege and I, were roleplaying these jailbirds.

Oh! Oh! And I was suggesting, OOC, that when we escaped prison and get chased by cops, our old RP characters (the one in SPIRIT JERICHO) would come in on their ship and save us! Then we'd escape to space together!

And I thought it was pretty cool since our old RP characters get cameos.

[Booted Vulture]

You know if the GM ever had to bail us out of an unwinnable situation that would be an awesome way to do it!

Players: Oh noes, We are trapped!

*KA-BOOM!*

*out of the smoke* Dwight: Well lookie here! Looks like we arrived just in the nick of time! What's that make us!

Butch: BIG DAMN HEROES SIR!

Dwight: Ain't we just! All we want is half your plunder and we'll get you out of this fine pickle you've made of your lives.

[Siege]

That would be awesome.

[Artemis]

So here's the situation as your characters know it:

2271: The independent vessel S.S. Black Swan, under commission by the United Nations Department of Exploratory and Colonial Operations (DECO), leaves Avalon orbit for the special economic zones of the Carepakeh Empire. All contact is lost five days later. Seven days later, Carepakeh of the Nine Laws That Override Truth sendworld report to DECO that they have found survivors from the Black Swan floating in an escape shuttle, but they are catatonic and suffering from severe microgravity trauma. The survivors are placed in intensive care in a DECO facility on Mars.

2275: Jack activity increases dramatically along the U.N./Imperial border, leading to heightened tensions inside the special zones. During this period, seven super-freighters from both superpowers are attacked, as well as the private yacht of Scott Cameron-Moore VII, heir to the Cameron Company fortune. Mr. Cameron-Moore has been missing, presumed dead, ever since. The leader of the largest Jack fleet, Drasa Kien Haffo, or the Jack of Swords, is finally chased to an unmapped system in the special zones, and is defeated by a combined force of allied Space Gypsies and the personal war fleet of Broodlord Pastrix Ristrix of the Silken Crimson Snare Brood. The Jack of Swords' ragtag fleet remains active, but without his unity their effectiveness is greatly reduced.

2276: With no heir apparent, Cameron Company stocks fall lower than ever since their unveiling of Second Space drive in the 21st Century. The corporate juggernaut begins to teeter on its pedestal, inviting attack from rivals Hyubase Energy and Lockheed-Ford. To avoid destruction, Chief Financial Officer Scotia Cameron, the previous heir's cousin, is promoted by the Board of Directors to President and CEO. Stability is returned, but the Cameron Company's future remains in question.

2276: DECO sends a fleet of thirty vessels into the system where the Jack of Swords was defeated, looking to develop the small, five-sector system for future colonization. For reasons unknown to DECO, the Interstellar Commonwealth insists on accompanying the DECO fleet of their own Discovery Corps vessels, including two Dhaimeo-class Starcruisers. Tensions mount between the Commonwealth and the Empire over this move, with the UN, DECO in particular, left in the uncomfortable position of preventing a potential brushfire.

2277: A year and a half after the U.N.-Commonwealth exploration fleet entered the newly-christened Pentacle System, mining efforts on the outermost planet, Temperance, are attacked by a small but heavily-armed vessel. Though there are no deaths during the attack, the mining base is ultimately destroyed, along with a small, unauthorized archeological dig site clandestinely supported by the University of Chicago and a number of private backers, many of them with ties to the Cameron Company. Investigation yeilds that those involved were searching for what they believed to be Thrau artifacts. There are unconfirmed reports that the ship that attacked the Temperance site resembled the long-missing S.S. Black Swan, but heavily upgraded and turned from a simple survey frigate into a military-grade warship.

2278 (Now): The prospect of a new Thrau discovery ignites the archeo-technological and anthropological communities. The question remains, however, who has the right to search for said artifacts. The United Nations and the Interstellar Commonwealth are both already involved in operations in Pentacle System, but the system itself exists within the special economic zones technically owned, though undeveloped, by the Carepakeh Empire, who are also vouching for the right of the Klashnoi Confederation to seek their fortune. Several sessions of high-society power lunches and shady back-room deals later, it is agreed that a multi-superpower task force, under the jurisdiction of DECO (considered the most neutral party involved) will search Pentacle System for the following:

A) Any and all possible Thrau technology or sites
B) The whereabouts of the S.S. Black Swan, and the fate of its remaining crew, if any
C) The current base of operations of the newly-reinvigorated Jacks

This operation will need explorers, soldiers, and diplomats. It will take the best, but all four superpowers are putting the word out that they need just that. From all corners of the galaxy, the greatest adventurers of this era gather to Pentacle System to seek their fortune. Will you be among them?

[Siege]

Will you be among them?

Yes.

(WIP!)

Name: Liberty S. Kincaid

Race: Human

Age: 36

Bio: Liberty was born and raised on the icy dwarf planet Ceres, the largest and most massive body in the asteroid belt, as the daughter of a mine foreman and a high school teacher. Although her family was of American descent and had not lived in the Belt for all that long, they were nonetheless very proud of 'their' Ceres and felt - as was common in those days - that their troubles and concerns, as well as those of their fellow Belters, were frequently overlooked or ignored by the United Nations. But the colonists on Ceres were a rugged and hardy bunch who intended to preservere whether the rest of humanity cared for them or not, and as Liberty grew up into a bright and inquisitive young woman she received from her parents and fellow Ceresyans a fair dose of patriottism for their small ball of ice. She enrolled in New Trenton Polytechnic, a technological university in the capital of Ceres, and attempted to volunteer with the Ceres Star Security Force when the Terran-Klashnoi War rolled along, but was rejected on grounds of being too young. Unbeknowst to her, however, this did attract the attention of several important people in the colonial government.

When Liberty graduated from New Trenton the T-K War was winding down. The Commonwealth had stated its ultimatum, and both humans and Klashies could do little but comply, no matter how much both sides might resent the Commonwealth for it. Emotions on Ceres were mixed: a great many young men and women of the Ceres Security Forces regiments had lost their lives in the meat-grinders of the Three Paradises system (thrown to the wolves, many Ceresyans would later claim, by staff officers from the established Terran powers who at best didn't care about the colonial rabble or at worst were giving them the toughest jobs with the highest loss-rates to bleed Ceres white and deprive it of a military worthy of the name in the aftermath of the war), for no appreciable gain: Avalon was still in human hands, sure, but after the war the Klashies were able to withdraw most of their war materiel, giving many the impression the fighting and dying had all been for naught. Certainly that was the impression Liberty and her family took away from it. Livid from the injustice of it all, she became briefly involved with one of many highly nationalistic, broadly anti-alien but especially anti-Commonwealth groups that sprung up in the capital city in the direct aftermath of the war.

It was during one of the actions of the Vermilion Underground that she was first approached by her future employers. After being arrested during a nightly raid that saw some spectacularly vitriolic slogans painted on the walls of the Commonwealth consulate in New Trenton she was taken from the cell in which she'd have to spend the night and taken aside by two women in cheap but well-fitting suits who produced credentials identifying them as operatives of the Ceres Office of State Security (COSS). Wasting few words, the agents explained to Liberty that she was frittering away her time as an aimless delinquent and asked if she really wanted to do something for her homeworld. The answer to that question was 'yes'. Of course it was: that much the psychological profile COSS had drawn up had predicted well before the question had ever been posed.

One month later, Liberty began her training as an intelligence agent. The COSS was neither the most experienced nor the most well-known (or for that matter well-funded) of the human intelligence gathering agencies, but it was remarkable for two reasons. One, Ceres' unique position in the middle of the Belt meant that the Office faced a wide spectrum of specific threats and problems. It had become well-versed in rooting out bands of religious extremists sponsored by Jovian groups and subversive elements funded by Earth and Mars almost as much as it was in clamping down on the rampant internal corruption for which Ceres was known. Two, because it lacked the sheer funds of the larger intelligence agencies the COSS had learned to improvise. In intelligence circles, the Office was known for its innovative (some would say 'literal') approach to trouble-shooting. When faced with a threat the Office of State Security didn't mess around: they took out the threat, no matter what that entailed.

Liberty, it turned out, was very adept at improvising new and creative ways to achieve her missions. She once managed to tag and follow an extremist Jovian preacher for two whole weeks by hijacking the feed of the small data-drone the preacherman permanently had hovering around him in order to record his sermons: when finally word came to eliminate the preacher, Liberty used his own unwillingness to use cybernetic comm-implants against him by rigging his old-fashioned telephone with enough explosives to blow his head clean off. Another time arranged for a corrupt representative to be convicted for contempt of court by ensuring he and his lawyer remained locked in an elevator for the duration of a trial at which they were supposed to appear, thus making certain the representative couldn't seek re-election because he'd be in jail during election season.

It didn't take very long, then, for Liberty to become a distinguished and valued field operative. Unfortunately for her, it wouldn't last. During a raid on the mansion of a New Trenton crime baron Liberty came face-to-face with the crimelord himself -- who at the time was piloting a heavy Sleipnir battlesuit. Outmatched and outgunned, Liberty eventually managed to take out the battlesuit by ramming it with a car at high speed, but even though the crimelord died she sustained life-threatening injuries in the process. She was air-lifted to the nearest hospital where she underwent 36 hours of continuous surgery, but in the end had to undergo an intensive cybernetization process to save her life. It still took almost seven months before she was able to stand on her own feet again, and soon after being released from the hispital her body developed CIRS, or Cybernetic Implant Rejection Syndrome, a condition in which the human body rejects the foreign parts implanted in it. Unable to return to the field, she was offered a choice of a desk job or a honorable discharge with retention of pensions from the COSS. She chose the latter.

The next two years Liberty spent running the odd job for her old friends and acquaintances on Ceres. Although none of those jobs were exactly illegal, some of them were definitely less legal than others, and altogether she did not find any of them very satisfying. Her pension allowed her to live comfortably, and nanomite injections kept her medical condition under control, but compared to her old life her new one was distinctly lacking in anything remotely interesting. But on Ceres, the only steady jobs open were in the mines or the wharves, neither of which was particularly appealing. She was finally beginning to consider a move to the off-world colonies when Lionel Makepeace, her old boss in the Office, called: they had a situation, and she might be able to help. Liberty was all ears. Of course she was: that much the psychological profile COSS had drawn up had predicted well before the question had ever been posed.

The COSS, Mr. Makepeace told her, had learned of the goings-on in the Pentacle system. They were particularly interested in the DECO mission that was being put together, for three principal reasons. The first being that the COSS desired a (covert) presence in this operation to increase its profile and standing amongst the myriad human intelligence agencies (after the fact). The second was that the Cameron Company was very interested in the mission, for obvious reasons. The Company was a major stakeholder in the Belt, and as a result anything that interested it automatically also interested the Office.

The third reason was Thrau technology. If any artefacts were discovered, the COSS intended to make sure that Ceres received its fair share of these marvels. The technology of the Thrau might very well give the industries of Ceres the boost they dearly needed to break out of the Belt and into the greater human sphere, and the government of the Republic of Ceres was paranoid that the UN might try to hog the technology for itself. If that was the case, then the COSS intended to 'liberate' these priceless artefacts before they could be shipped to Mars or Earth, and Liberty would have to be their point-woman in such an endeavour.

It wouldn't be a walk in the park. Depending on how the situation developed, she might have to confront not just Jacks, Commonwealth agents or operatives of the sinister Carepakeh Empire, but also her own human allies. Was Liberty prepared to accept this mission?

Did that question really need to be asked?

Appearance: Liberty Kincaid is 5'9" with blonde-brown hair. She is pretty in a girl-next-door kind of way, and can be highly forgettable if she wants to be - prime traits for a secret agent. Her body is seriously scarred, and even after plastic surgery a number of scars are visible across her body. The most prominent of these is a thin, five centimeter long white line that runs vertically over her right eye. She wears aviator sunglasses to hide the fact that both her eyes are in fact ocular implants that glow with a dull red light in the dark (they allow her to peer into the IR spectrum).

Liberty is the recipient of a large number of cybernetic implants, the result of emergency surgery after multiple organ failure. Amongst the replacement parts are one arm, one lung, both kidneys, the pancreas, her trachea, most of the muscles on both legs, parts of her spine and shoulder blades. As a result she is very much a mix-and-match of organic and machine parts, with skeletal reinforcements and strengthened tendons running throughout most of her body. And although the implants are generally more efficient than their biological predecessors, her body has not taken well to them. CIRS means that her body continues to reject the foreign parts, and Liberty requires a steady series of injections with nanomite treatment in order to stem the tide of the syndrome. If she exerts more stress on her body, the symptoms become worse and she will require further injections. If she runs out of medicine or goes without for prolonged periods, her body will quite literally fall apart.

Operating under cover as a freelance agent for DECO, she cannot use much of the equipment she'd have access to as a member of the COSS. She compensates for this by up-arming and armoring like a proper mercenary: in the field, she wears a TK-war military surplus musclesuit and fatigues formerly of the Ceres Security Forces in Avalon Khaki, combined with a pair of Castel .45 automatic pistols, a Section Industries 'Hellebore' rifle, an old Colt six-shooter for a backup piece, a traditional KA-BAR combat knife and a set of grenades.

[Artemis]

Oh man! Liberty Kincaid, that's a hell of a name. I think she'll do nicely.

And I gotta say, Siege, I really love what you've done with Ceres, both with Dwight and Liberty here. I really hadn't ever given much thought to that particular dwarf world, but now I think I'm gonna. Hmmm... Asteroid Belt/Rust Belt.

[Booted Vulture]

Well I've been struggling to come up with a character but I wanted to put something up before y'all lost all hope. So here goes.

"I'm no good with people... too recent

Name: Dr. Roy Montana

Race: Terran

Age: 41

Bio: Doctor Roy Montana Phd. is a xenoarchaeologist, or at least he would be if any reputable establishment would ever deign to hire him, any more. The problem is not some much his skills, for his got his phd fair and square and is highly knowledgeable about a vast variety of old civilisations but rather his technique whereas most archeologists tend to like carefully sifting through ancient debris carefully cataloguing and analysing even the most minutest of scraps. Roy tends to
stumble across remarkably, nay miraculously, intact tombs, break in and nick any thing remotely shiny.

While this was a tolerated quirke in the early days of his life, so long as he brought back lots of treasure it did not endear him to the locals of the worlds he investigated. As interplanetary complaints started to pile up in the universities' inboxes they eventually had to pay attention to him and quickly became horrified by his methods, leading to his fall from grace in the academic community.

Oddly, as Roy's mind is perennially stuck at least 1000 years in the past he remains blissfully tolerant of all peoples and races. He is, nevertheless, exceptionally well travelled and has picked smatterings of many languages and customs, past and present.

While normally a lost ship such as the Black Swan would be far too recent, to be of any concern to Montana, he's behind on the rent, and, oh yes, has a powerful need to eat some time this month, so if DECO is paying, or at least offering lodge and board in return for services, Montona would be happy to provide what ever assitance he is able to render.

Appearance: Roy is a heavy set man, that people often think of as square on first glance being almost as wide across the shoulders as he is tall. Habitually he wears what he thinks of as 'the archeologist's uniform' consisting of the primary elements of sandals worn with socks, a long sleeved shirt, as well as tan trousers and a sleeveless jacket both with many many pockets for his gear: Some standard archealogist's tools (a magnifiying glass, trowel, various sizes of brushes) and some not (explosives, say, and his lucky .38 calibre Revolver)

***

Yeah OK, I think the allusion has been made painfully obvious by now, but additionally there's some inspiration from Robert Rothman (An illfated contempary of SG-1's Daniel Jackson) and a Serenity quote thrown for good measure.

[Artemis]

Looks good to me An absent-minded Indiana Jones, eh?

Hey guys, while I'm certainly not gonna put a "race cap" on people's characters, I'd urge those who are interested but have yet to create a character to consider some of the other races. I made every polity involved in this endeavor for a reason ya know

[Czernobog]

Here's my character, tell me if it's any good...

Name: Alexis A. Harding

"I don't know much about the Thrau, but I do know how to fight!"

Race: Terran

Bio:

Alexis Harding was born on Terra, to the Harding family of the United States of America. When he was of age, he joined the military as an infantryman. Perhaps the bloodiest conflict he participated in was against the Jacks, wherein he was the only survivor of his entire platoon storming a Jack-held starship, more out of dumb luck than anything else. The incident hardened him greatly - to him, while a lesser man might be riven with nightmares, he wasn't gonna be.

Today, Alexis Harding has fought against much in the universe, and always lived to tell the tale. He's become a mercenary after being honourably discharged for unknown reasons, and put his services to good use. He's agreed to help protect the Pentacle expedition for an undisclosed sum, but if somebody tries to cheat out of his money, he's going to be angry, and with an impressive array of firearms that anger may be unleashed...

Appearance:

Harding is 6'5" with blond hair and brown eyes. He's physically dominating, wearing body armour under a black-leather trenchcoat, with some pockets and holsters for the pistols he has. He's an avid collector of guns (as well as a mercenary) and has memorised their characteristics by heart. Speaks with a Texan accent.

[Siege]

Hrm. If everybody else is going to play gun-toting humans, I might just go for a Saryan instead.

[Shroom Man 777]

I will go with a hard boiled noir monologuing Klashnoi PI, who gets a job from a Saryan lady in red. Either that or a war vet Tekk who philosophizes about B-Beams glittering in the darkness off Avalon gate.

[Mobius 1]

I'd play as a Carepakeh, but I'd be kidding myself I thought it'd be anything close to what FROD pulled off in the original game. Still, the team needs a pilot or a medic, so I figure I can at least fill one of those roles. Species doesn't really matter to me... well, wait, nevermind, Klashnoi for the win.

[Artemis]

I will go with a hard boiled noir monologuing Klashnoi PI, who gets a job from a Saryan lady in red.

DOOOO IIIIIIIT. Oh man, do it

[Shroom Man 777]

She came to me on that night. The Saryan in red. Her sinewy tail streched for miles, smooth scales glistening in the night light.

I offered her a drink. She laps up the fine wine with her forked tongue.

I keep her close until she's gone.

Fixed my glasses on, just to get a good look at her. Squinted my beady eyes. Was I being too obvious? Yes, I was. But it didn't matter. Not to me.

Dick Klash, Private Eye, will wear beady glasses cause even Space Rhinos have bad sights. He will be a K-T War vet, and will use a depleted uranium buckshot-filled SHOTGUN PISTOL to compensate for his piss poor aim.

He likes a glass of brandy every now and then. He likes fine wine and fine women. Monologues on rainy days. Vinyl records playing while he smokes a fine cigar and puts his feet/hooves up on his desk.